


Dreaming Is A Terrible Thing

by SunlightOnTheWater



Series: Pathways [3]
Category: Supernatural, The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Nightmares, POV Jack | Kyra, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightOnTheWater/pseuds/SunlightOnTheWater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her friend, close to her as a brother, has nightmares and she doesn't know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming Is A Terrible Thing

_Sometimes she dreams of the past, of a mother who loved her and stroked her hair and sang her to sleep. They're good dreams; the kind that wake her up wistful and content and just a little bit melancholy. Most nights she doesn't dream at all. Every once in a long while she has a nightmare. She's in Crematoria in the chill of night and somewhere, far away and out of her reach, Sam is screaming and she can't find him. Those nights she wakes up and can hear him thrashing in his room, letting out little cries of terror that make her heart break._

* * *

She didn't know how to stop the nightmares. After she'd reached puberty, and discovered the impossibility of completely disguising her new form to be male, Jack had left the majority of her bad dreams behind. Sam hadn't. He'd been plagued with nightmares ever since she'd met him and in the month since he'd saved her life in the main hall they had been nearly constant. They'd turned him into even more of a shadow than he already had been, sleepless and thin and pale. Her barely ate, woke up screaming every time he tried to sleep, and refused to come out from his room.

She felt guilty as Hell. This thing was her fault, whether Sam would admit it or not. She'd forced him out of his room to start with, trying to show Riddick how brave, how strong the boy who was close enough to be her brother really was. The con she looked up to since she'd escaped that foster home thought Sam was a liability. That he was weak and probably going to get her killed. Jack knew better. He'd saved her life more than once since pure, animal cunning. He was cleverer than almost anyone she'd ever met and he could be downright ruthless when the situation called for it. It had made the other inmates in Crematoria rightfully wary of him.

Now, settled in the main room while Riddick looked through another of his countless star charts, searching for something he refused to name, she could hear him whimpering and tossing in his sleep. She kept throwing glances over her shoulder, the soft, pleading sounds coming from him making her wonder if there was something looming in the shadows. Jack watched as the con's jaw tightened the longer the sounds when on, watched his muscles stiffen with irritation written in every line of his body. One hand clenched into a fist and Jack stood abruptly, unable to take the tension any longer. She whirled on her heel and stalked to his room.

Sam's room was dark, windows shuttered so as not to let even the gentle light of distant stars reach him. He lay on the bed curled up in a tiny ball, arms covering his head as if to shield it from a coming blow. Her chest ached with sorrow as he let out another pained whimper, cringing tighter on the bed. "Sam," she called softly, trying to rouse him without touching him. He came out of these nightmares fighting, struggling to get away from anything that restrained him. "Sam wake up." The only response she got was the slim frame trying to curl tighter in on itself on the bed.

Jack approached with hesitant footsteps, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She reached out a hand and gently brushed it against his arm. That was all it took. Sam catapulted out of sleep, thrashing and gasping like he'd run a marathon. The whites of his eyes rolled and he shook for a moment before he settled, staring at her. "Kyra," he croaked out at last, voice raspy like he'd been screaming. She'd always been Kyra to him. To Riddick she was Jack, the girl who'd run away from home with bright eyes and undying enthusiasm. To Sam she'd always been Kyra. Kyra the unbreakable, he'd called her once.

"Are you okay?" she asked and his face filled with shame, over her asking or what he'd been dreaming about she wasn't sure.

"Yeah," he replied, still in that rasp, and she saw that his eyes were red. He'd been crying. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

"Wasn't sleeping yet," she informed him, settling down carefully on the edge of the bed. "Tell me a story?" Sometimes after the nightmares if she could get Sam to weave one of his web of fantasies, things so amazing they took her breath away, it helped to calm him down. He shook his head in response, shuddering all over, and Kyra dropped her gaze to the sheets she was sitting on. It was going to be one of those days then. The ones where he'd lost himself almost completely. "There's nothing so bad it can't be forgiven," she tried and he let out a harsh bark of laughter that made her heart ache.

"Anyone who tells you that is selling something," he informed her.

"Don't say that," she pleaded and he looked at her with guilty eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I," she admitted.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." They sat in silence after that for a long time.

* * *

_She'd first noticed the nightmares three days after he'd been brought to Crematoria. One minute he'd been resting peacefully while she kept watch and in the next he was screaming. She'd almost toppled off the ledge they'd set up camp on, startled by the sound. It had dug into her head like a knife and she let out a little whimper of her own, hands rushing to cover her ears. After a moment it stopped and she saw tears slide silently down Sam's face. Through all that he still hadn't woken up._

* * *

The nights that followed were worse. Occasionally before Jack had been able to coax him out of his room into the common area but he obviously sensed the increased tension from Riddick. He refused to come out. He'd stopped eating, gagging at the sight of food and curling in on himself. Jack didn't understand it, didn't know what to do about it, but she knew the con would be no help. He'd grumble about Sam being useless anyway and not offer any help. On the fifth day without Sam eating a thing, he'd stopped drinking that morning as well, she decided she'd have to make him talk.

She started by settling down without preamble on his bed, making the whole mattress bounce. "Why don't you eat?" she asked and Sam shivered. She waited as patiently as she could, worry twisting her insides into knots. Her best friend was killing himself by choice and she didn't understand why. " _Sam_ ," she pleaded and he raised a tear streaked face so he could look at her, fingers twisting the fabric of the blanket.

"They wouldn't cook anything," he said hollowly. "You could feel it all slimy and sliding down your throat and then it stopped tasting. Everything did because you wanted... They wouldn't..." He shuddered and doubled over. Sam had shared next to nothing about his past, only telling her that his family'd been murdered, the murderer had kidnapped him, and he'd been blamed for the whole thing. Now she felt as if he'd started in the middle of a story and she was lost. "It's like going through withdrawals all over again," he said when he could straighten out again, lifting hands so he could show her how they trembled.

"You have to eat," she said at last, taking his hands in hers.

"Can't," he replied, shaking his head rapidly and then wobbling like he was dizzy. "Can't tell if it's...Can't risk it."

"You're killing yourself," she tried but that just earned her a lopsided smile.

"Universe'd be in better shape if I did," he told her.

" _Please_ ," she begged but he just smiled.

* * *

_His nightmares grew better in Crematoria, or at least quieter. After the first few nights of screaming he felt into silent twitching and the occasional soft whimpers. Jack guarded his sleep, keeping an eye on him and one on the world around them. After a few failed attempts to start conversations about Sam's nightmares she gave up, letting him deal with them on his own. Still she watched and waited, hoping that sometime he would trust her enough to tell her what haunted his nightmares._

* * *

Jack left him alone until nightfall, pacing a track on the floor of their common area. Riddick watched her for an hour, snorted his disgust, and left. She didn't care. She'd find some way to get through to him. She had to, otherwise she would lose him for good. When she approached him again, hours later, he was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. "Why are you afraid of eating?" she asked carefully. She'd been thinking while she paced, turning every inch of the problem about in her mind, and that was what she had come across. Sam had seemed frightened of the very idea of eating anything and she didn't understand why.

"I can't tell," Sam replied, voice raspy and thin. "Can't tell if it's safe."

"Do you trust me?" she asked him after a moment of hesitation and was gratified when he nodded immediately. "Will you trust me to tell you if the food is safe?" His head shook a denial just a moment after the words came out of her mouth. "Why not?"

"They might be controlling you."

Jack didn't ask who _they_ were. She had a feeling she didn't want to know the answer. "What if you watch me taste it first? Then will you eat?" There was a long, agonizing moment of waiting as Sam considered what she had said. Then at last, slowly as if he weren't sure he was doing the right thing, he nodded. Jack breathed out a sigh of relief, whole body relaxing. "All right then. That's what we'll do then." A solution had finally been found. Sam would eat. That night Jack fell asleep curled up with Sam. For the first time in a long time he seemed to sleep without dreams.


End file.
